Pony Boy Ch. 06

It seemed ages before we were taken back to the stables where 'fat guy' got out and we were unhitched from the buggy. The blinkers were closed off and we were led back inside to our stalls where, still blindfolded, I was fastened in place by the reins.

As I stood there waiting I could hear the swish-thwack of what sounded like a riding crop and the associated half muffled cries of pain. I guessed that one of the losing ponies was paying for their slowness, or maybe it was just one of the punters getting his kicks. Then I heard someone coming into the stall. With very little pre-amble my reins were unfastened, I was led to the centre of the stall where I was bent forward over something solid and around waist height. The reins were tied off in such a way as to stop me from standing up again. My ankles were pulled apart and something fitted around them to keep them that way. Finally, the straps at the back of the 'G' string harness were undone and the plug removed from my arse.

"There you go, Mr Robbins," I heard Pete say. "He's all ready for you. I'll leave you to it."

I guessed that Mr Robbins was 'fat guy'. He had evidently paid for a pony boy session and this was part of the package. Still, the plug from the tail had left me open and lubed up and, when he came up behind me and started to shove his prick up my backside I was ready for him.

He wasn't too bad. At least he wasn't rough, nor was he particularly well endowed so he wasn't too hard on my battered anus. But there was no passion, no connection. For all that it would have hurt more I would somehow have preferred to have been half raped by Herr Schlick or Mr. Bothwick than this soulless rubbing back and forth. At least he didn't last long. He had hardly started before he grunted and with one last push, shot his load.

And then he was gone and I was, once again, left, tied up, bent over and with my arse wide open, ready and available.

It seemed like they left me there for ages. I could hear noises as people moved around the stables and Mr Robbins and his friends were getting louder and louder as they enjoyed using the ponies. Even when they left and the stables went quiet it was still quite a while before I was finally released and freed from my pony gear. I went and found the other five ponies and, together, we got dressed and ready to be run back into town.

When I got back home the place reeked of petrol but I was too exhausted to do anything about it. I promised myself that I would spend all of Saturday down at the laundrette but, right then, I really needed a bite to eat and relaxing pint so I sorted out a change of clothes and headed off to the bar taking in a fish supper from the chippie on the way.

I had barely got there and was still only half way down my first pint when I received a text on my phone. I hauled it out and had a look. All it said was 'Car pick up 10:30. Dress smart.'

My heart sank. Was this some sort of punishment for oversleeping? One thing was for certain, after the morning's events, I wasn't going to refuse however much it wasn't what I wanted. I made my excuses to the guys and headed back to my room.

I had just enough time to take a quick shower and spruce myself up a bit before the car arrived at ten thirty on the dot. When I got in I found I wasn't the only one. Carl had already been picked up and, after a while, we picked up Jed as well.

Then we were all whisked down to the West End where we were let in the back entrance of some sort of private gambling club. We were led through the kitchens and out onto the gaming floor where Mr Robbins and his friends were playing roulette at a table that had been reserved for them. Mr. Mason was busy being mine host and glad handing them all. We were waved over. Once again it was time to earn our pay.

Now I think that roulette is an idiot's game, you're betting thirty-six to one on thirty-seven to one odds but Mr Robbins and his friends were having a rare old time and betting serious money on each spin of the wheel. It was quite easy to see what our job was. We were there to jolly them along and encourage them to bet more.

I watched Jed; he and Carl had so much more experience of all this. While neither of them were quite the coquette I tend to be, they were both playing up to the punters, egging them on. Telling them how wonderful they were. And then Carl persuaded Mr Malinder, one of Mr Robbins' friends to put quite a bit on twenty seven and it came home. Suddenly Carl was flavour of the month and, although his guesses after that were no better than random, he was now Mr Malinder's lucky mascot.

A few minutes later Mr. Mason came up behind me and said softly 'eighteen'. OK, so the wheel was fixed. Now I knew. However, Mr Robbins and his friends didn't have a clue. Indeed, with the amount they were drinking they probably didn't even know what day it was.

"Ooh, Mr Robbins," I simpered. "Why don't you try eighteen? Same as my age, that will be lucky."

He put his arm around my waist and leered at me.

"Go on then, why don't you put the chips on for me."

I took some chips off his stack and leant forward to reach the eighteen box. As I did so I felt his hand feeling up my backside. Still, this was all part of the game and if I was keeping the customer satisfied then Mr. Mason would be happy and, if Mr. Mason was happy, then I was safe from Archie and his zippo.

"Les jeux sont fait," the croupier spun the wheel and flicked in the little white ball. All eyes were on the wheel but Mr Robbins hand was all over my arse and giving me a good old feel.

"Ooh, you little darling! Get in there!" he cried out as, inevitably, the ball fell into number eighteen.

Now Mr Robbins, like Mr Malinder, felt he couldn't go wrong as long as he followed his lucky mascot. They were piling on the chips and, of course, slowly but steadily losing. Meanwhile they were being plied with drinks so they hardly noticed how they were getting fleeced. As far as they were concerned they each had their lucky mascot. How could it go wrong?

It was three in the morning when, finally, they had had enough. Taxis were ordered and we were all taken back to the hotel. Mr Robbins was playing the big shot and he was all over me in the back of the taxi. We piled out and staggered into the lobby of the hotel. There was a certain amount of 'how's about one more before bed' but the night porter regretfully explained that the bar was closed. Mr Robbins then insisted that we all go up to his suite where he had a bottle of whisky.

As soon as we got into the lift he was, once again, giving me a good old grope but it was nothing compared with Mr Malinder who had pulled down Carl's trousers and boxers and then stood behind him, putting his left arm around Carl's chest and reaching down with his right to put his hand around Carl's prick. He was waving it about and, treating it as some sort of puppet, doing the old 'what do you think of the show so far' routine. They all found this hilarious and, of course, in no time they were joining in, pulling down our trousers, holding us in a similar fashion and playing games with our pricks.

When we got to the top floor and the lift door opened, Mr Hall, the punter who Jed was looking after, used his grip around Jed's prick to, as he put it, 'ride' him out and into the corridor, although, as Jed was effectively hobbled by his trousers, they couldn't move very fast. Mr Malinder and Mr Robbins followed suite and, as Mr Robbins pulled me into him I could feel him rubbing himself against my arse. Halfway down the corridor Mr Robbins got it into his head to have what he announced as a 'pork sword fight' where each punter took hold of his respective pony's prick and used it as a 'sword', slapping it back and forth against the pricks of the other ponies. This caused much merriment and delay and it seemed to take forever to get to the room. What with one thing and another I was surprised we didn't wake up the whole hotel.

When we finally got to Mr Robbins suite the three punters finally let go of us and slumped down into the armchairs arranged in the lounge area. I noticed that Carl and Jed, rather than pulling their trousers up, were busy kicking off their shoes and socks and stepping out of their them so I did the same and, by the time we joined the punters in the lounge, we were all three completely naked. Carl and Jed each sat on lap of their respective punter and I was despatched to serve the whisky and sodas before I too took my place on Mr Robbins' lap.

And then the conversation got onto prick sizes, ours, of course, not theirs. Naturally no one had a ruler but Mr Robbins had me fetch a piece of note paper from beside the phone and this was laid along our pricks and marked with where we stretched to. As ever, it got very competitive and each punter was out to make sure his pony was as hard as possible so there was a fair amount of wanking going on as well.

Carl was the winner by quite a bit. Then Jed, and, yes, I drew the short straw. There was bugger all difference between Jed and I but, by the way they were making a fuss about it, you would think I had only a toothpick when compared to Jed's log. All I could do was join in as the jokes made at my expense came thick and fast.

"Who gives a fuck about that little girl's prick," Jed commented. "When I'm buried to the hilt up his tight little arsehole it's the size of my prick that counts not his."

"So, you fuck him, do you?"

"Whenever I can."

"And what about you, Carl, do you fuck him as well?"

"Haven't had the chance yet, Jed's always in the way!" This caused paroxysms of mirth.

"But you would if you could."

"Too right I would."

"So why don't you. Right now. That's if Jed doesn't mind."

"Mind, why should I mind? Specially if Ben were to suck me off at the same time."

"Great idea! Go on then."

"Where would you like us to...?"

"Right here will do. Move that coffee table out of the way and do it on the carpet."

While Jed and Carl were moving the coffee table I went to my jacket and got out the condoms that were part and parcel of dressing for a night out nowadays. When I got back Jed was sat on the floor with his legs apart leaning back against Mr Hall's knees. I passed one of the condoms to Carl, unwrapped the other, got down on my hands and knees and fitted it over Jed's prick.

At first it was a bit like trying to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time. It was hard to concentrate on giving Jed a blow job while Carl was busy shoving his prick my arse. Every time he pushed I was in danger of gagging on Jed's prick. Fortunately Carl was taking it easy. I had lubed myself up before I had left but that had been hours ago and Carl's generous size was going to take some getting used to.

And then we found our rhythm. I don't know what it was like to watch but, after the brutality of what was normally meted out to me, Carl felt really good inside me. He took long, slow strokes and I could feel every inch of him deep, deep inside me. The punters certainly seemed to love it, cheering and jeering, egging us on. I could tell that Carl was giving them a show, making the most of it so I joined in, making a show of how much I too was loving it. I couldn't do too much, of course, with my face buried in Jed's lap, but I was pushing back and wiggling my arse around, much to the merriment of the onlookers.

At the other end I wasn't ignoring Jed. Rather than just sucking at him I ran my tongue up and down Jed's prick for a while and, while I was doing so, managed to glance sideways. Mr Robbins was staring intently and stroking himself through his trousers.

And then Carl started to up the pace. There was a new urgency about his actions. I could tell he was close to coming. If the show were to go perfectly then Jed would have to come at the same time. This probably wouldn't happen and I hoped he had the sense to fake it. I now had him deep in my mouth and he was fucking my face almost as urgently as Carl was fucking my arse.

Carl started grunting and moaning. Jed joined in.

"I'm close, Jed, very close," Carl called out.

"Me too, me too, count us in."

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, ooh four, three, two, one, fuck yes, fuck, fuck, oh yes...." With the cheers of the punters filling the room Carl buried himself all the way inside me, his hips hard against my arse as the spunk spurted from within him. I love that feeling; I love the feeling when a man comes inside me. I just wish we didn't have to wear condoms.

And, as I had hoped, Jed had the sense to fake coming at the same time. The two of them slumped over and, for a moment, there was a pause as we all got our breath back. Then Carl slipped out of my backside and, one by one, we got up and returned to our respective punters.

"Well, Ben, what was it like being fucked by a nigger?" Mr Robbins asked. "Like a bit of jungle juice, do you? Did it turn you on having his big black prick inside you?"

"Oh yes...." I had to swallow back my disgust at Mr Robbin's overt racism. "I like a big black cock. I think they're dead sexy." I snuggled up to him so I could whisper in his ear.

"Ooh, it was nice being fucked by Carl but I'd rather be fucked by you. I loved it when you were at the reins, taking control. I'd do anything for a big strong sexy man like you, anything at all. What would you like? What's your special thing? What would you like me to do?"

Part of me was sickened by what I was doing but I now knew I had little choice and the only way to survive was to play the coquette, the one that had got me through so far.

"Anything at all?" Mr Robbins queried.

"For you, sir, anything."

"I think it's time I took this one to bed, showed him what it's like to be really fucked," Mr Robbins announced.

Now that they'd had their show the others were in full agreement and couldn't wait to leave. Jed and Carl picked up their discarded clothes but didn't put them on as the followed their respective punters of out into the corridor. I hoped for their sakes that they didn't have far to go. Or maybe the hotel turned a blind eye to naked young men running about in the corridors at night.

Mr Robbins wasn't messing around either. I was hauled off to bed where he tore off his clothes and, in a cloud of whisky fumes, climbed on top of me. However, in the end, he was too drunk to do anything about it and we ended up just cuddling before he passed out in a drunken stupor.

In the morning Mr Robbins was too hungover to do much so, apart from demanding a quick blow job, he mostly left me alone. I told him how virile he had been and what a wonderful night I had had which made him feel better, Mind you, long before there was any sign of breakfast, I was told to get dressed and go. I wanted a shower but, apparently, that wasn't on the cards. I went downstairs to the lobby and, as luck would have it, met Jed who had also just been dismissed. Apparently the three punters were due to meet for breakfast and we ponies weren't invited. As such it was worth waiting the few moments until Carl arrived.

The three of us shared a taxi back to east London. Carl was the first to be dropped off which left Jed and I alone in the back of the taxi.

"So, how did you like getting fucked by Carl? You certainly seemed to be enjoying it, you little tart."

"I was OK. Better than OK, he's pretty good."

"Better than me?"

"Jed!"

"Well, is he?"

"Please, Jed, that's a stupid question. It's not like that. You know it's not like that."

"What, with him or with me?"

"With him. It was a sex show for the punters, nothing more, nothing less."

"Yeah, but that's all it is with me as well."

"But Jed...."

"But Jed what?"

I didn't know how to reply, what to say.

"Fucking tart," Jed snarled and turned to stare out of the window.

We sat in stony silence. What on earth had got into him?

The taxi pulled up outside the block of flats where Jed lived. I had things to do but they weren't as important as the atmosphere in the taxi. I told the driver to wait a moment.

"So this is it. Fortress Jed, do you ever let anyone else in?"

"What are you on about?"

"Offer me a cup of coffee."

"Why?"

"Please, Jed, just offer me a cup of coffee. I assume Fortress Jed stretches to a cup of coffee."

"OK then, would you like to come up for a cup of coffee?"

"I'd love to."

We paid off the taxi and made our way over to the tower block. The lift didn't work and it was quite a way up to Jed's flat but we made it in the end. The door looked particularly solid. Fortress Jed, indeed, but once we got past the door the actual flat was clean and tidy. He went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I went up behind him and put my arms around him.

"It wasn't actually coffee that I was after."

He switched the kettle off.

"You need a shower," he said rather gruffly. "I'll show you where it is."

He led me to his tiny bathroom and watched while I undressed. Then he showed me the shower arrangement over the bath and how to adjust the taps and arrange plastic curtain so as not to flood the place. Then, to my disappointment, he left. That wasn't the plan at all. Feeling gutted I played with the taps until I had got a nice warm flow, stepped into the bath and closed the curtains. I was just relaxing, feeling the soap suds wash over my body when the curtain opened and there was Jed.

I let him take control. That's what he wanted; that's what I wanted. Under the shower he was just washing me, head to toe, every nook and cranny. Of course, when he soaped my prick it was as hard as iron but then, so was his. It's just that he was in no hurry to do anything about it. And then the water started to run cold so it was time to rinse off and get out. He passed me a towel and we rubbed each other down.

"Better?"

"Yes, Jed, thanks."

"Well, come along then."

He took me through to his bedroom and lay me down on his bed. He got in beside me and the bed was so narrow that it was a bit of a squeeze but didn't matter in the slightest. This was so, so very different than anything that had ever happened to me before. He put his left arm around under my shoulders and, with his other, reached down and put his hand around my prick. Gently he stroked it up and down.

"Please, Jed...," I started.

"Shut it! You don't move and you don't say a word. Got it?"

I just nodded.

And there, in his bed, rough, tough Jed showed me his softer side. He was still strong, manly, in control, but that was what I wanted. I could feel the power of his desire, his need and I knew that it was me he desired and needed. His fingers on my prick felt so fine, so very fine, and I wanted to return the favour but that's not what he wanted. I was his, his to control, his to own.

He laid me on my back and ordered me to reach up and grab the rails of the headboard. With my arms above my head like that I felt open, vulnerable. He knelt between my legs and lifted my knees, higher and higher, and then reached for the lube. This was not the first time he had lubed my arse but there was something special about this time. I wanted to be open, ready for him. When I was ready he wiped his hand, reached for a condom, and slipped it on. Then he lifted my knees even higher, and looking me straight in the eye, I felt him push against me.

'Oh please, please, Jed, yes, take me, take me, I want to be yours, to feel you deep inside me. Take me Jed, don't ask, just take.' But I didn't say a word and neither did he. I knew that was the way he wanted it. I still couldn't prevent a groan of pleasure escaping as, smooth as silk, he slid inside me. 'Oh, yes, Jed, yes!'

He reached down between us and, as his prick slid slowly in and out of my arse, so he matched the rhythm with his fist tight around my prick.

And still his eyes locked onto mine. The punters had never wanted to see my face. Oh so often I was just an upturned arse, a hole to be plundered, a cipher, a nothing. Even Mr. Bothwick, who had forced me to look in the mirror, had only been interested in making me see my own degradation. He hadn't been interested in me.